Backhanded Compliments
by lcloopez
Summary: Arthur is sleazy and Gwen has severe foot in mouth syndrome  : This little moment is set during episode 2, Valiant, of series 1 and is inspired by their exchanges of series 2. It's my first try at fan fic so please be kind and review. Thank you.


Backhanded Compliments

"My lord"

The curly haired young woman curtsied self consciously. The gesture went unnoticed by the brooding prince staring sombrely outside his chamber's window. He grunted in reply but did not turn around.

Guinevere shook her head but bit down on her lip. _No more embarrassing outbursts for me today_, she chided herself. She'd had enough of them already in front of Merlin. She blushed a little at his name. _Damn, my fickle, susceptible little heart – it will be the death of me one day_, she thought giddily.

"Are you bothering me for a reason? Or are you just going to annoy me with silence?" Arthur snapped, spinning around to face his tormentor. He had half expected to see his useless prat of manservant though he had rashly sacked him earlier; instead he was greeted by a pair of startled brown eyes, full of disapproval. He'd had enough of that expression today.

"I'm sorry, my lord" she bowed her head and a wild curl snuck free from behind her ear "King Uther requires your presence in the throning room. He said it was urgent." She spoke as quickly as possible. This was, fortunately, her last errand of the night and she couldn't wait to get home and tucked into bed.

Arthur snarled, his handsome features turning gloomy as he turned away from the light. "So he can punish me for embarrassing him?"

Guinevere didn't know how or what to respond. Judging by the King's stone cold countenance and the way he had spat out his son's name; _yes_, yes, it did appear so. She said nothing and the beautiful prince sighed.

"Tell my father ... tell him I am busy training for tomorrow's match."

_A bad liar_, thought Guinevere, _almost as bad as me_. She nodded and made her way out.

"Not that I have any chance of defeating magic, no matter how hard I train." He muttered, quietly.

Arthur turned back to studying the exposed fighting ground, the sand stained with blood. He shuddered; his blood would be spilled there tomorrow.

"So it is true – the allegations against Knight Valiant - he_ is _using magic?" Gwen inquired, stepping back across the threshold.

Arthur would have usually reprimanded servants for sticking their noses where they were not wanted but the sincere concern and genuine interest in her voice and expression stopped him.

"Yes but I have no proof other than Merlin's word, and apparently" he said, sounding resentful." That's worth zilch so nothing can be done about it."

"I _knew_ it. I knew there was something ... _off _about him. He was too good to be true." She found herself saying.

"Hmm" Arthur responded, becoming uncomfortably aware that he was now engaged in a conversation with a servant; a pastime he didn't usually derive much pleasure from. He tried to keep interactions with the staff as little as possible – apart from his own servant, of course, but those kind of communications were unavoidable and definitely more of an annoyance than a delight.

_Guinevere_, he remembered suddenly, inspecting her face. Her name was Guinevere. It was a pretty name – the only reason he remembered it. He liked the way it rolled off the tongue. It suited her, he noted, as she rambled on, blushing. She wasn't as obvious a beauty as, say, Morganna but she had an equal appeal – probably something to do with her warm, puppy dog eyes and the curvy shape of her body filling her plain dress. He thought about it – asking her to 'warm his bed' – she would say yes, as all the others did, and be honoured to serve their future king in _that_ way. But he decided against it. The scorn of Morganna when she inevitably found out would make it not worth it. And, although she was tempting particularly after the day he'd had, he had a lot on his mind – and various aching joints.

"So, what will you do? Clearly you can't fight him." Gwen finished, oblivious to the prince's ogling eyes.

He tensed his tender muscles, not wanting this conversation again. "I can" he said, arrogantly. "And I will."

"But you'll be killed!" she admonished.

Arthur responded in an equally abrupt manner. "I am Prince of Camelot. It is my duty to the people to fight. If I am to die at the hands of Valiant's magic, then that is my fate. There is nothing more that I can possibly do apart from the honourable thing-"

"- And what is that? To be killed, out of pride?"

Her cheeks burned crimson. Wh_y_ oh _why_ was she incapable of keeping her mouth shut? She looked downwards to her feet as she spluttered out an apology. "I'm sorry, Sire. I shouldn't have spoken like that-"

Arthur was dumbfounded. Had she just insulted him? A servant? A _maid_servant? He looked at her quizzically and she fidgeted under his gaze. She wanted to be dismissed, he could tell but he wasn't about to give her the satisfaction.

"So tell me then, as clearly you know so much more about honour than me - _Camelot's finest knight_ – what you propose I should do." The question was sincere, his mocking not.

"I do not claim to know everything, Sire." She was defensive and regretted saying anything at all. She stood a little straighter and raised her chin, which struck him as a very noble mannerism for a servant. "I just don't think it's very honourable to die in vain, when you have so much to give."

"- To _give_?"

She took a step nearer, closing the gap between them. "You are a great warrior, as you well know, and I believe you_ do_ have a good heart under all that bravado. You are the hope of the future. Without you, my lord, Camelot is doomed. So, you see, you just can't _die_."

Both looked quite taken aback by what had just passed between them. Gwen stood back, and dropped her gaze, hoping for the ground to open and swallow her up. Arthur, on the other hand, wasn't sure whether to be angry at her insolence or thrilled at her conviction that he had, somewhere, a good heart. Either way he found himself strangely comforted.

"I shall take my leave now, Sire. Sorry again" She bowed and walked to the door. "I'll tell your father you shall not join him. Good evening, my lord." she said, over her shoulder, her formality restored.

And then she was gone.

Arthur slumped onto his bed. _A great warrior, as you well know_... _A good heart under all that bravado_. How odd, he thought crawling under the covers, how strange and rude. And nice.


End file.
